Amazing Grace
by WaitingWishing
Summary: AU Sometimes, all a person needs is a little touch from grace. EdxWin ON HIATUS
1. Once Upon a Sunday

So I decided to use Ed's god-complex, added some Ed and Win here and there, spiced it with some fluff and tragedy, stuck everyone in the FMA world into an alternate universe, and tada! This is what I got.

Yeah, I'm trying a different approach with this fic- yes, it's _another_ AU. Initially, I was going to make this an Inuyasha fic, but some EdWin fanart got me motivated.

Alright, so here it is. It's all Edo' point of view. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize any of the characters, then NOT MINE!

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Amazing Grace

Ch.1: Once Upon a Sunday

I would start off with 'Once upon a time,' but to be honest, I don't really believe in such a thing. One would use that introduction for a fairytale, a story with an inevitable happy ending, no matter how grueling the preceding events were. They're fantasy myths, as I call them, a spark of creative thinking from a wild imagination, surpassing the standards of reality.

It's amazing how people can come up with so many stories with the same plot, recycling it to sound different from the rest, but in the end, it remains undistinguished. I don't know what it is that makes once upon a time and fairytales so compelling. That's a mystery beyond my thinking, and it doesn't do me any good to try to solve it or to believe that mysteries are truths hidden in lavished secrecy. Besides, no one's life is a perfect fairytale. Mine included.

For some unknown reason, Sunday is the worst day of the week for me. I was somehow cursed with an unending wave of bad luck that washed on shore and took me away with the tide. I don't know what I did to make every damn Sunday hell on earth; each one came as horrible as the last.

As if on queue, the morning sunshine burst brightly into my room, exactly thirty minutes after ten. I would have groaned, rolled over in bed and finish catching up with some sleep, but it was right then and there when it hit me: my first class had started exactly half an hour ago. It had only been a month of teaching at the University of Central as a science professor, and showing up late for a class would not leave the best impression at all.

I practically sprang out of bed, and dashed around for some clothes to throw on. I stuffed the ungraded papers into my bag, frantically searching for my shoes as the clock ticked away wasted seconds. With no time to redo my tousled ponytail, I ran out of the door with enough profanity to leave anyone breathless.

I hoped to catch a taxi, but as I whipped out my wallet, I realized public transportation would be financially impossible; it was miserably and completely empty. I cursed this cloud of bad luck hanging over my head, discovering that I had one alternative left: I would have to run.

So I did. Painting the sidewalk with more colorful language, I aggressively pushed my way through the herds of people. I was at an advantage; with two prosthetic limbs- automail it's called- everyone cleared the path in hopes of not getting hit with the metal parts. Now let me tell you something about automail, it's not the most grueling thing you could ever ask for. I had lost my real limbs a few years back in an accident that swept by in an instant blur. Recovery was so damn difficult and frustrating; I had to learn the basics- teaching my new fingers to move, walking in coordination with both legs. I have to be careful with the machinery since there aren't many mechanics around, or any that know how to deal with automail. If there's one little tweak with the stuff, I have to do some intensive searching for repairs. Oh hell, don't even get me started with repairs. They're a pain in the ass.

Somewhere down the way, the sound of bells rang in the air, clamoring to a melody composed by the rope puller. I looked ahead to where a crowd was dispersed outside a church. They probably had just gotten out of mass, or whatever it's called. I haven't the slightest clue what they do in there, or why they attend this mass.

Being an atheist, I'm not very big on religion. You see, I'm not much of a believer in God, and I don't understand how people can put so much faith in this superior being. It's illogical; if there really was a God, then why is there so much suffering in the world? Pain, anguish, despair- why do these things exist? People use this excuse of there being a god for a panacea from the turmoil inflicting this world. Salvation and eternal life are just myths, the idea of a Heaven, a lie. Call me sinner, call me a morally wrong person, I don't care. To me, religion is like a fairytale, fluffed up and sugarcoated to give everyone the better perception of reality.

A massive crowd of church attendees began to accumulate on the sidewalk, talking and conversing about their social lives and the meaning of today's Gospel. Despite my rather polite demeanor, they all seemed oblivious of the words, "Excuse me," and, "Pardon me, please", so I had to push my way though. On accident though, I knocked over an altar boy, sending him and his white robes into a puddle of overnight rain water. I felt bad for doing that, but with time breathing down my neck, I couldn't stop for an apology. You have no idea how many glares I received in those few seconds.

It's a miracle how I lived to see tomorrow with my little escapade, unscathed from the ongoing traffic and my illegal pedestrian motives. Panting and sweating, all that risk-taking did get me where I had to be. I ran onto the campus, too much in a hurry to take in the scenery that gives this place its unique feeling, like you could never find anywhere else on this planet that could capture its beauty.

I burst through the hall doors, my feet echoing on the floors as I rushed down the halls. Past the wall filled with pictures of past alumni, and the brimming trophy case, I nearly collapsed when I reached the door to my classroom. Lacking oxygen, I held onto the knob for support so I can catch my breath.

Suddenly out of nowhere, a bell shouted. Doors swung open, students trudged out, class had ended. I nearly fainted from lack of air and that feeling I get after doing something for absolutely nothing.

"Edward, Edward," a voice sneered as the person I was least wanted to see strutted out of my classroom.

"Mustang," I remarked, facing my opposition, "don't even get me started."

If you were to search low and high for the most pompous bastard to walk this earth, come to this university and you will find him. Roy Mustang. Arrogant and proud, he'd always talk about how he would change the school if he were the one in charge, throwing afterthoughts of 'If I were Headmaster this,' or 'If I were Headmaster that.' It gets on my nerves, especially after hearing all his bullshit day after day, it gets old.

"I had to sub for you today," Roy said. "You're lucky. If I were Headmaster-" See, what did I tell you? - "you'd have to start looking in the newspapers for a new job."

"But you're not, so," I patted him on the shoulder, feigning a sympathetic smile, "keep dreaming."

He chose to ignore this, and switched gears to verbal abuse. "You look like you got dressing tips from a hobo."

I opened my mouth to retort on his sleazy attire, but Riza Hawkeye, another professor at this school, stepped in. She's Roy's daily reminder to keep in track with everything, and whenever he starts straying off the road, she's there to tow him back in. She never really smiled much, not even a little bit; all I ever saw on her face was that same stern, intimidating look. In my opinion, I think Roy could be the one to bring that small smile, but that's just me.

"Mustang, sir-" Now, when she addressed someone as 'sir' or 'madam,' she always meant business- "the Headmaster would like to speak with you."

Roy smirked as though talking to the Headmaster would guarantee him some degree of recognition. "Don't be late next time," was the piece of advice he had to offer before walking off with Riza.

I rolled my eyes. "Jerk."

"Brother," another voice said from behind. "You're a little late, don't you think?"

"A little is a bit of an understatement," I replied, facing my younger brother, Alphonse.

Well, everyone just calls him Al around here, including myself. I mean it when I say that he is the most selfless person you will ever meet in your lifetime. I swear, he's one of those people who are just naturally kind-hearted, and does things just because. It's so rare to find his personality now days, that he might as well be a collector's item.

We're just a year apart with enough poignant memories to tell as bedtime stories. We've gone to hell and back, from the death of our mother at childhood, to the abandonment of a so-called father when times were rough. But despite it all, we managed to immerge from the wreckage with a few bumps and bruises. Little did we know, however, that the gates of Hades had opened once more, unleashing its hounds for another bite.

"What'd you do?" Al asked, noticing my wayward appearance. "Oversleep?"

"Yeah," I grumbled. "Not only that, I found out I was flat-out broke so I couldn't catch a taxi. God, I hate Sundays." It was then my stomach let out an angry protest for being forgotten. "Oh shut up..."

Al chuckled as he took out his wallet, counting up some money and handing it to me. "Here, go out and get something to eat."

I stared at the bills as though I were holding the secret to life in my hands. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, and don't worry about having to pay me back, ok brother? Now go get something to eat before you pass out. As for me," he held up a stack of papers, "I have to start grading these before they start piling up."

I told him I would see him later as he disappeared down the hallway. Al's the best brother out there, I swear, he really is.

---

So I did what Al advised and bought a sandwich from a nearby deli. I devoured it within seconds, but bad luck hit me again, cutting me short fifty cents from what I owed. The waitress was nice though, she didn't make such a big deal of the situation, which saved me from some unneeded embarrassment.

There's this place in the park I like to visit whenever time permits me to. It's this spot next to the lake with a garden in full bloom; there's a willow tree too, providing shade and an escape from the blistering weather. To me, it's like a place close to nirvana; it has enough peace and quiet to trigger some tranquility in this loud city of Central.

I wandered into the haven right after I ate, and settled myself on the bench that's there. I opted not to grade the papers there were long overdue, relishing instead the forgotten newspaper next to me. I took it, curiously flipping the pages to see what headlines were being made a big deal of. A girl's shouts drifted with the swift breeze, but I heed no notice. I grew bored after a while with reading the damn paper, so I put it back where I found it. And as I did, the most peculiar thing caught me by surprise.

Two pairs of gleaming blue eyes blinked at me from under the bench. I jumped up as a little boy poked his head out. He was a youngster, no older than ten but no younger than six, with curling brown hair, and a face sprinkled with freckles. There was this unexplainable morose look settled in his expression; it was almost as though he had forgotten how to smile.

"Hi mister," he said, rubbing his nose. "You're sitting on my bench."

"Am I?" I asked, stepping away from the uncharted territory. "I'm sorry, I didn't know this bench belonged to anyone in particular." I squatted, peering at this child curiously. "Say, what are you doing down there?"

"Watching the clouds," he pointed to the white-splashed sky.

"Can you see from down there?"

The boy nodded, conversing no longer as his eyes gazed to the blue heavens above. I looked up as well, watching a white cloud making its way on the endless highway.

"Hey, what's your name?" I don't know why, but I was fascinated with this kid.

The boy bit his lip, contemplating whether or not to reveal his identity or lie with a fake one, but after a moment's silence, he did neither. I was about ready to ask him something else when a call pierced the air, a woman's voice, frantic with worry and concern.

"JONATHON!"

A small 'uh-oh!' escaped the boy's lips as he ducked underneath the bench. I had no idea what the hell was going on or why he was hiding to begin with.

"Jonathon!"

"Don't tell anyone I'm here," the boy whispered, adding a polite, "Please." The voice called again and he went back into concealment.

The bells from city hall sounded, signaling the strike of noon. I had another class in half and hour and it was not on my agenda to be late for this one.

"Hey kid, look I have to-"

"Excuse me!"

I turned around to see a woman in front of me. Like long, blonde strands of silk, her hair flowed down her back, contrasting with the fair complexity of her skin; her cheeks kissed by a shade of pink, lit up, giving her face a natural vibrance. The engagement ring on my left finger weighed heavily, and I knew I shouldn't have noticed, but what hypnotized me the most were her eyes. The light sparkled in them as though it were gleaming off the surface of the ocean, sapphire and deep, much like the little boy's...

"So, have you seen him?" she asked, clipping me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry, I don't understand your question. Have I seen who?"

"A boy, he's about this tall with brown hair and blue eyes," she wrung her fingers nervously. I could tell she was downright worried. "And he has freckles too..."

My suspicions grew to the fugitive underneath the bench. I knew I wasn't supposed to give away the whereabouts, but that look on her face was enough to surrender the oath.

"You might want to look over there," I gestured towards the bench. She gave me a peculiar look as she leaned over, discovering the lost one.

"Jonathon!" she exclaimed in half-fury, half joy. "I've been looking all over for you- young man, get out of there this instant!" Slowly the boy emerged, knowing he was in deep trouble. "You got me so worried! Don't ever, ever think about doing something like that again, is that clear?"

She suddenly burst out in a small coughing fit, which was quickly disregarded as she asked again, "Is that clear?"

As this was going on, I tried to decipher the relations between these two. They didn't exactly look like siblings- Perhaps they were cousins? No, maybe she's his babysitter-?

Jonathon shook his head, shame keeping him from looking her in the eye. "Yes, mom..."

Mom? She's a mother? Well, there's a big 'OH' for you. She's young though, probably the same age as me-

"I'm so sorry if he bothered you at all," she apologized, clipping me out of my wonderings once more.

I waved the matter aside. "No need to apologize- he wasn't a bother at all!."

"Really now?" she glanced down to her son, who was busy scrutinizing his untied laces. "Well, thank you so much for helping me find him."

"It's no big deal..." I trailed off, hoping she'd complete the sentence. Fortunately, she did.

"Oh, I'm Winry," she said, holding out a hand. "Nice to meet you...?"

"Edward," I held out my right hand as well. She didn't take it though; instead with wide eyes, she stared at my automail. Whether she was fascinated or not, I felt uncomfortable and shoved my hands into my pockets.

"You have automail?" Winry said, her face glowing in adoration. I nodded apprehensively at her ardent enthusiasm.

"Mommy's a mechanic," Jonathon piped up, his blue eyes shining proudly.

I've never met a female mechanic, and, even though we just met, I was starting to think highly of this girl. "Are you really?"

Winry eyed me suspiciously, looking as though she were expecting a different reaction. "Well, yes, but you... you don't think it's, you know, weird?"

"Am I supposed to?" I took my hand out from my pocket. "You look like you know more about this stuff than any other mechanic I've gone to. Do you have a shop or anything?"

"Yeah, it's down Benson Street- you should stop by sometime if you ever need a repair."

"I will," I assured her as I snuck a peek at my watch, which ticked away at thirteen after twelve. "It looks like I have to go, but I will swing by sometime, Winry."

"Alright, Edward," she grinned, Jonathon waving from behind. I waved in return, making my way onto the sidewalk once more as I joined the lunchtime rush. It was right then and there when a thought hit me: perhaps, repairs wouldn't be such a pain in the ass anymore.

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So, there you go! 

Whatcha think? Please review and tell me what you think! Reviews are helpful and make me happy.

So who's Edo engaged to? That and some other good stuff'll be revealed in the next chappy!

Until then!

--WaitingWishing--


	2. The Stranger, Her Questions

Wow, it's been a while, neh? I'm sorry for the late update- I was stung by writer's block, and school's been a big pain in the buttocks. I'm not very happy with this chappy, and I'm sorry if it's not of good quality. And, I'm sorry the chapter title's so lame. Sorry, sorry, sorry!

Btw, does anyone know when the FMA movie comes out over here? I'm just curious…

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Ch. 2- The Stranger, Her Questions

There's lots of benefits about being in the teaching field, but sometimes, the cons outshine the pros. Don't get me wrong- I love what I do. I love being able to transition knowledge to the minds of my students, to expose them to the wide range of scientific information, like equivalent exchange and dynamic equilibrium. Science is an unending phenomenon with new discoveries, and there's nothing better than sharing it with students eager to learn.

However, there are some things I hate having to do as a teacher; the biggest one is the grading. You have no idea how tedious it is to read a mountainous pile of essays and decide whether or not they follow the guidelines and directions I instructed. See, I'm not a very lenient professor; I make sure to give my students the grade they deserve, decide if they should receive an A or barely pass with a D. Grading is so time consuming, so I try to start right away. But if it were a perfect world, I would actually do so, instead of allowing something to stray me away from the itinerary.

I was lavishing in the quiet comforts of my classroom, with an essay at hand when that something came in the form of an overly curious brother, fueled by a rumor he had heard from the teacher's lounge. Annoyed, I told him to come back later, but he grabbed a chair noisily and seated himself directly in front of me.

"Roy was talking about something rather interesting," Al started, eyes set in an interrogative stare. "He mentioned that he saw you at the park today-"

I snorted. "What's this? I've got a stalker now?"

"With," he continued, "another woman." Again with the interrogative stare as he paused for a theatrical affect. "Is this true brother? Are you playing taboo as an engaged man?"

I practically knocked over an ink bottle, crying out, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, going around even though you're not a bachelor anymore."

"What! Did Mustang imply that I was _cheating_?" I felt a rage of mad fury coming along as Al nodded. "That bastard! The liar- there's no damn way I could ever be as big a playboy as him!" Seriously, do you know how many women he's got wrapped around his finger? They're practically queuing up for a date with him! "And, I'm getting married! I have more dignity than that!"

"Alright, alright," he said, trying to calm me down. "If you weren't cheating, then what were you doing?" Al was eager to know the details, so I told him straight-out. He's an excellent listener, but his expertise skills weren't enough to grasp my tale completely.

"So wait, let me get this straight," Al pieced together all I had told him. "While you were at the park, you found a kid named Jonathon, _hiding_ underneath a _bench_? He told you not to tell anyone where he was, but later on, you discovered that he was hiding _from_ his _mother_, Winny?"

"Winry," I corrected. "Yeah, but when you say it like that, it all sounds preposterous."

"Because it is! I mean, what are the chances of something like _that_ happening?" Al shook his head. "Anyway, that's all that happened? Nothing more, nothing less?"

"Nothing more, nothing less."

Al let out a relieved sigh, satisfied to know the gossip was a lie as I went back to grading the paper at hand. I had just finished reading the topic sentence when another question slipped out of his mouth.

"Was Winry pretty?"

I don't even remember hearing the question when my mouth spoke without my mind's consent.

"Yes."

Like a child in a corner, Al snickered to himself. "Oh really, now?"

"Wait, no! I didn't mean... well, she was, uh..." I fumbled for an excuse, my face reddening with each passing second. Geez, dammit it all.

He tutted disapprovingly, poking fun at my unscripted confession. "Now brother, as an engaged man, you shouldn't be noticing other women."

"I wasn't noticing other-!"

"What did she look like?"

Without even realizing it, I gave him a verbal portrait of her, describing the intensity of her eyes and the soft smile that graced upon her lips. I even added the small detail that she was an automail mechanic, and had a shop in town. I don't know why, but I went on and on, before the muffled cackles from Al brought me back to my senses.

"There, I answered your stupid question," I growled furiously. "What's so funny?"

Al was chuckling madly by this point, so much so that I was almost certain he'd soil his pants or something. I glared, not finding any humor in this at all.

"Well," he wiped away tears of mirth, "I'm pretty sure that it's safe to say, it was better that Roy saw you instead of-"

A tap on the door clipped his sentence short. Al was finally able to control himself as I looked up, thinking it was someone else who wanted to jest at my lunchtime escapade. I sighed, muttering a "Come in," with utmost regret before looking up to see her. Dark, exotic skin, violet-blue eyes, with streaming hair, long like a river's flow; it was my fiancé.

"Rose," I stood up, surprised by her visit.

She grinned. "Edward."

I've known Rose for some time now, five years for those who like specifics, and trust me, our relationship didn't start out with daisies and happy sunshine. It was more like pointless arguments and heated debates. See, she has a different aspect of things than I do, a personality that likes to clash with mine whenever it has the chance. She's quite a religious person, and thinks that religion shapes morality; I'm an atheist and think that science shapes ingenuity. She believed in Fate; I believed in coincidence. She hated cats; I thought they were rather cute. We were just two very different people with no common rope to tie us together, no solid ground that the both of us could agree on.

Or so we thought. Believe it or not, we did find one common interest between the two of us: we both hated milk. Now, I know it sounds stupid, but somehow that little fact sparked something. We suddenly started seeing things in a new perspective. She grew a respect for my ideas, and, even though I didn't completely agree with hers, I did as well. A seed of friendship was planted, eventually and slowly blossoming into what I think is love. Of course, when I popped the infamous question, "Will you marry me?" to her, everyone went ballistic.

"Are you sure you're going to marry her?" they asked incredulously. "But you two are so different!"

"Things will work out," was my response to it all. Despite how confident I was when I said that, I never thought I'd regret those words later on.

"I decided to stop by for a quick visit before I go to church," Rose said, placing a kiss on my cheek. I would've sworn I saw a flicker of disapproval flash across Al's face, but it was gone as she acknowledged him with a nod. "Hello, Alphonse."

Al acknowledged her as well. "Good afternoon, Rose."

"I hope I'm not bothering you two," she continued, eyes glancing back and forth between Al and I.

"You're not," I replied, trying to sort out the essays on my desk in neat piles.

Rose walked around the room, stopping at the open window where a swift breeze swayed in. I didn't know what was going through her mind as she fingered her engagement ring, saying quietly, "Ed, you should stop by sometime. Even though we're getting married, it feels like we don't spend enough time together."

I blinked. "Oh..." What to say, what to say? "Well, I have so much work to do, and time always slips by without me noticing it, so..."

Noticing the stack of papers, she nodded solemnly. "I see..." She looked to the clock. "Well, I should get going. I'll see you later..." she paused at the door, turning to me with a sad smile. "…stranger."

* * *

"I don't get it," I scratched my head, making my way onto the sidewalk. "What did Rose mean when she said that we don't spend enough time together? I mean, she calls me, she sees me everyday, she visits-" I was stumped. Her voice echoed in my head, an imprint of that poignant grin was stamped into my mind. 

Al contemplated for a moment, thinking of an answer to allay my question. "Well, when was the last time _you_ visited her?"

"I don't know, a few days ago-"

"When was the last time_ you _called her?" I shrugged. It's not like a kept track of these things. "Ok, when was the last time _you_ went to see her?"

"Shit, I don't know Al, last week maybe?" My mind wasn't too sharp that day, so I didn't understand the concept of this questionnaire.

"So there we go," he concluded. "She's the one who makes the time, while it seems like you don't at all."

Alright so I have to admit, what he said was partially true. I've been too absorbed in my work and other things to be with her. I felt horrible, as though my insides were distorting itself. "What do you suppose I do then?"

"Spend time with her!" Al exclaimed, causing some passerbys to look at him strangely. "Geez brother, you're so smart, yet you can be really dense sometimes."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Al let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head as though he were regarding the whole conversation. "Never mind, never mind. Look, how about you invite Rose for dinner or go out and see a play?"

I didn't hear his suggestion though. My attention was centered to the little boy across the street, hand in hand with his mother, waiting patiently at the bus stop. I looked and the boy looked back, blinking slowly before tugging his mother's sleeve. He pointed a finger in my direction, as she looked up, wondering what he was getting so curious about.

"Winry..."

"Winry?" Al repeated, glancing across the street. "Wait, is that girl over there Winry?"

"Hi Edward!" Winry called, smiling. I found myself stunned for a second before remembering to respond back. But need I remind you, it was still Sunday. With one last laugh from bad luck, a car whizzed by, triggering a wave of water as it zoomed through the gutter. Fortunately for Al, he dodged out of the way just in time, while oh-so-lucky me was the victim of the filthy tsunami.

"Shit!" I yelled, making a scene of it all. Clothes drenched and soaked to the bone, I was pissed as hell.

"Brother- are you ok?" Al asked, making an effort not to wince at the stench accentuating off me.

"Shit! Dammit!" Some people on the sidewalk glared at me for cursing without discretion, others were chuckling softly to themselves, but I was too ticked off to care.

"Here, I think you need this more than I do." I wheeled around to see Winry, holding a lace, handkerchief as Jonathon stood by without saying a word. I took it gratefully, but I didn't know what to do with it. The cloth was so crisp that I didn't want to dampen it, and so white that I didn't want to soil it. Awkwardly, I held it in my hands as the water from my bangs dripped down my face.

Winry looked from Al to me, and then back to Al, asking, "Are you two brothers by any chance?"

I nodded. "Yeah, this is my younger brother, Al. Al; this is Winry and her son, Jonathon." Usually when I introduce him to other people, they always look at me like I got the facts mixed up. See, even though I'm older, he's got the height advantage, which causes confusion and the same, irritating, "Younger brother? But he's so much taller!" comment. I was expecting to hear that from her, but to my surprise, she just said, "Well Al, nice to meet you."

"Same here," he replied. "I've heard _so_ much about you from Edw- ow!"

I elbowed him as a bus rolled by, coming to a halt at the stop Winry and Jonathon were standing by earlier. Jonathon tugged at her sleeve.

"Mommy," he whispered in her ear, "the bus is here."

"What? Oh!" she looked back, taking a few coins out from her purse. "We have to go, but it was nice meeting and seeing the both of you. Perhaps I'll see you around sometime. Come now, Jonathon." Al and I bid them farewell as they rushed across the street to board the bus. It took off noisily, and I watched them go until they were out of sight.

"Well," Al said, turning to me with a cheeky grin, "so that was Winry, eh? She must live far from here- that bus route goes all the way to Resembool."

"Resembool?" I mused. I've never been there before, but I've heard about it from various people. "That's at least a forty-five mile drive right there."

Al nodded, taking a whiff of the air, but only to inhale my ghastly scent. "Brother, I think it's best if you change out of those clothes. You smell horrible."

"You think?" I chuckled, still holding her white handkerchief.

* * *

Nyeh, I really do not like the way this chapter turned out. Too rushed, too short, too meh. I'm sorry if it sucked. I think I'm starting to loose interest in this fic…-blinks- Wait, no! I'm not loosing interest! I'm not, I'm not, I'm not I say!

FMA's on tonight! Hooha!

Anyhoo, I'm off to –sings- see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz! Something something la de da da da dada!

--WaitingWishing--


	3. Tea Time Gossip

Oh my. How long has it been? Over a month? –dodges pelts of tomatoes and rotten bananas-

I'm soo sorry for the delayed update! School's been busy, and life has been, well, life. But I hope the lateness of this chappy won't keep you from enjoying it.

Chapter 3

Tea Time Gossip

"You made dinner reservations _where_!"

Al yelled, nearly deafening my right ear. Even though I was in a phone booth, I was sure the people outside heard his exclamation. I swear, sometimes his voice is loud enough to make the dead turn over in their graves.

"Bella de Villa," I pronounced slowly into the receiver.

"Bella de Villa!" Al gasped, sounding like someone had slipped ice cubes down his pants. "Bella de Villa! Are you serious!"

"You sound shocked." Well, I guess I wouldn't blame him. See, Bella de Villa is the most distinguished restaurant in the entire city for its top of the line culinary: sated shrimp, juicy meats, alluring wines and sweet delicacies. Once you've eaten there, it'll leave an unforgettable impression on your taste buds- you'll be craving more for weeks- but it also leaves a huge hole in your wallet. Trust me, a place like Bella de Villa is what I call elegantly expensive and I promise you I'm not exaggerating. I knew a guy who went there once; he went in with a pocketful of money but left with a huge check of debt.

"How can I not be? I mean, can you cover the expenses?" Al asked. "That restaurant isn't exactly your ordinary buffet."

I don't really like to brag about money, but somehow I accumulated enough to last me until retirement. "I'm sure. I got my paycheck last night, so it should be able to pay for Rose and me."

"You're... taking Rose?" The shock in his voice wasn't too hard to miss at all. "Brother, you're actually taking my advice?"

I shrugged, realizing he couldn't see that type of response over the phone. "Well, yeah. I thought about it last night, it has been a while since I've spent some good quality time with her. Besides, she told me once that she's always wanted to go there-"

"Was she happy when you asked her about it?"

"Thing is, I haven't told her about it yet," I said, tapping my fingers on a phone book.

"How come?"

"Well, I want to see the look on her face when I do," I replied, visualizing that picturesque smile of hers. Not to be biased or anything, but Rose has the loveliest smile you could ever set your eyes on. I mean, the way her whole face lights up the moment that grin graces her lips- it's indescribable. "In fact, I'm on my way to tell her about it right now."

"You are?" he sounded confused. "But then, how are you talking to me at this very second?"

"I'm in a phone booth," I explained. "I'm waiting for the bus to come so I can get to Rose's house, but it's taking a while so I decided to call you." I watched the bus stop, hoping that monstrous vehicle to come by soon. "Dammit, I wish it'd hurry up already."

"Patience is a virtue." Those are wise words that mean nothing to my _im_patience.

"It's also a royal pain in the ass," I scoffed, glancing at the time on my pocket watch, which read a few minutes to eleven. As if on queue, I saw the bus making its way towards the stop. "Oh hey, there's the stupid thing right now. Listen Al, I got to go."

"Me too," he responded. "I've got a class in five minutes- lucky you, you have today and tomorrow off!" Mondays and Tuesdays are my days off from work, which is great because I get to start the week off with two days of doing whatever I feel like doing. "Spend them wisely, brother."

"I will," I promised, bidding him good-bye before hanging up and stepping out of the booth. Like a massive wheeled-giant, the bus rolled in, coming to a screeching halt at its designated area. A wave of people busted out of the open doors as more swarmed the entrance to get inside. I waited for the last of the passengers to step out, reaching inside my coat pockets to fish out some spare change that I hoped to find so I could pay the bus fare.

Luckily, I pulled out a few coins from one pocket, but from the other, I came up with something that distinctly did not belong to me; a crisp, white handkerchief, lace trimmed around the edges. I recalled that it was Winry who had given this to me just yesterday after getting splashed by that goddamn car. Obviously, I had forgotten to give it back to her. In fact, I forgot that I had the handkerchief in the first place. I hadn't the slightest idea how the hell it ended up in my coat pocket.

"Sir, are you going to board or not?" the bus driver asked me, popping a bubble he blew from his chewing gum.

"Oh, right." Quickly, I stepped inside, dropping a few coins into the slot. I took the first empty seat I saw, which was right behind the driver, and sat down with the handkerchief still in my hand. The lady sitting across from me looked at me funny; her brow was furrowed as though to wonder what I would be doing with a laced handkerchief. I started folding it so I could put it back in my pocket, but as I did, there was one little detail I hadn't noticed until right then and there: in one of the corners and beautifully embroidered in a light blue was the name _Winry Sullivan_. It looked very simple, yet held an august elegance that gave it that feeling of authenticity.

"Winry Sullivan…" I mused to myself, running a finger over the thread's texture. Come to think of it, Winry never mentioned her last name to me… but, she'd probably want this back. I mean, it must have some importance if she went through the trouble of getting her name stitched on it. She never said I could keep it anyways, so I should return it to her.

I looked to the driver, asking, "What's the next stop?"

"At Benson," he replied from behind the steering wheel.

Benson? That's where Winry's shop is, or at least that's what I think she told me when I first met her, and it's also on the way to Rose's house. With this little fact, I planned to make two trips going down one route. Folding the handkerchief neatly and slipping it into my pocket, I decided that I would simply stop by whatever place came by first: Rose's house or Winry's shop.

Moments later, the bus came to a noisy halt where I was the only one to get off. I found myself standing on a borderline between two very different looking worlds; to the right side was a neighborhood swimming in tangible luxury: big houses, and unbelievably expensive cars; to the left stood old apartment complexes rotting from use and time, litter and waste blowing wistfully into gutters. There was a man not far from where I was standing, waiting in front of a small shop. His torn clothes didn't seem to suffice for the chilly wind, and a scowl was set on his face as he eyed my coat. Uneasily, I started heading in the other direction, which led to Rose's house before an exclamation caught my attention.

"Ah, bless her soul! She truly is a one of a kind, that Winry." Another man, clothes torn and worn, walked out of a shop with a radio tucked underneath his arm.

The man who had been glaring at me earlier looked to his friend eagerly. "What? How much didya have to pay?"

"I didn't have to- she told me the repair was for free! I tried offering her some money anyways, just 'cause she's got a kid of her own that she's gotta support, but she wouldn't take it." The radio was his prized possession as he looked at it, grinning from ear to ear.

"She's very generous; Winry sure does have a charitable heart."

"No kidding!" The two of them started off, music drifting along with them as they toyed around for a station.

Curiously, I wandered in front of the shop the men had come from; wondering whether or not it belonged to Winry. It was pretty small, sandwiched in between a rundown building and an abandoned one. The words _Rockbell Automail and Parts_ was painted along the window as automail arms and legs hung fashionably behind it, assuring me that I had come to the right place.

I pushed open the door, and somewhere above a bell dinged. The smell of oil and metal invaded my nostrils, more parts decorated the walls. I swear, it was like I had stumbled into a mechanic paradise: buckets full of bolts, nuts, and screws, wrenches and screwdrivers shining behind display counters, as well as a few tools I had never seen before in my life.

Faintly, I heard coughing coming from the whereabouts of the backroom, followed by a, "I'll be right there!"

"Alright," I called back, marveling at this interesting piece of machinery next to the cash register. There was a small crucifix humbly hanging on the wall in front of me, and I noticed a few medicine bottles scattered along the counter. I never got to see who or what they were for as Winry appeared with green bandana holding her hair back, wearing beige pants and a black top.

"Edward," she seemed surprised to see me.

"Hi Winry, I hope I'm not bothering you," I said as she shook her head.

"No, not at all! I just finished a repair I was working on."

"Speaking of which," I leaned against the counter, "I overheard some of your customers talking about your service."

Winry wiped her fingers with a nearby towel, a bemused grin set on her face. "Oh? What did they say?"

"Something about getting a repair for free and, from what they mentioned, I'm assuming that you're the definition of generosity."

"Well, even to the poorest of the poor," she tossed the towel aside, "I believe in service to everyone."

I shook my head as I walked around the room. "Noble answer, I'll give you that."

She chuckled a bit, keeping an eye on my footsteps. "So Edward, what brings you here?"

"Well, I wanted to-"Her eyeing turned into a rather fixated stare directed at my left leg, analyzing every move I made. "What?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, nothing…" she flicked her eyes up. "Sorry…"

It was right there when I should have told her about the handkerchief, but I noticed some missing company. "Where's Jonathon?"

"Hm? Oh, he's at school."

Typical. I mean, it is Monday. "Oh right, right. What grade is he in?"

"Second…" A frown laced was laced upon her brow as she watched me tap my foot on the floor. I grew uncomfortable under her scrutiny, feeling like I had my fly open or I had walked out in public without my pants on.

"Really? I… I would have thought he was is in-"

"Take off your pants."

The order was so sudden, I wasn't sure if what I heard held to be true. I blinked once, twice, perhaps three times with my mouth hanging open.

"W-what?" my voice cracked horribly.

"Your foot," she pointed to the indicated body part, "it's automail, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but what the hell does that have to do with taking my pants off?" I asked, still gaping at her little outburst. "And how'd you know it was automail?"

"I can tell by the sound of your footsteps," Winry replied, rolling out a chair for me to sit on.

"Okay, but you still didn't answer my first question."

"I want to check your automail. Something doesn't seem right with it."

"My automail's fine. There's nothing wrong with it," I should know, I'm the one with the automail.

"I assure you there is," she challenged, unconvinced of my rebuttal. "Don't be so stubborn, Edward."

"I'm not being stubborn!" _Why_ was I picking a fight with her?

"Yes, you are," Winry said, standing her ground as she thought of a convincing reason. "Come on, could you at least roll up your left pant leg? The check will only take a minute. It won't hurt, I promise." Her eyes watched me as her ears stood ready for a hopeful answer. I stared at my foot, debating with myself whether or not this whole thing was necessary.

"Alright, alright fine," I sighed, giving in and sitting on the damn chair. I kicked off my shoe and pulled up my pant leg, exposing a pathetic piece of automail. The junk isn't exactly the best work. The guy I got it from wasn't what you call a professional at automail, and it's so hard to find someone who knows how to deal with the stuff.

But Winry was a different story; I had a feeling that she knew exactly what she was doing. She analyzed every detail, from the metal itself to every little screw, rotating and straightening my foot as though she were trying to find out how it worked. I patiently waited, and after more speculation, she finally came up with her prescription.

"Well, Edward, it looks like you need new automail. The one you have is getting pretty rusty, and it seems too fragile to put up with intense movements or impacts. Not to mention, it's quite heavy." She pointed to some automail displayed on the wall. They were new, extravagant looking compared to what I had. "If you want, I could give you that new model I've been working on."

I unrolled my pant leg, saying, "Let me think about it for a while, but if I do decide to get new ones, you'll be the first one to know."

"Ok then," she nodded, suddenly going into a mild coughing fit.

"You alright?" I asked, a little alarmed. "Do you need water or anything?"

"No- no, I'm fine…" she faintly smiled, straightening her composure. "It's just a small cold, that's all… So, what did you come here for again? I interrupted before you could tell me."

"Oh, I wanted to give you something," I pulled out the handkerchief from my pocket, and handed it to her. "I believe this is yours, Winry Sullivan."

Her smile turned into a firm line. "…Sullivan… That last name doesn't belong to me anymore, so now I've gone back to my maiden name, Rockbell."

I knew the subject should've been dropped, but my mouth was too persistent to ask, "Oh, so you're a widow?"

Winry's eyes flashed dangerously like I had opened a healing scar. "What makes you think I'm a widow?"

"W-well…" I froze under her icy glare, sinking into the springs of the chair. "I don't know- it's just I thought you were because you said… er…"

Suddenly, her face changed; her eyes grew distant, her lower lip began to tremble. It was as though she was fighting with herself to keep some pain and regret inside, but failing horribly against an unattainable poignant memory. She turned away, becoming fascinated by a crack on the floor.

"No…" she replied quietly. "I'm not a widow…"

"Oh…" was all I could afford to say. I felt like a goddamn idiot for even asking her something so personal, delving too deep and prying information I should have left to curiosity's wonderings. I didn't know what I could say to lighten the heavy weight in the air, so I sat there, fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. God, I'm an idiot.

"So, Edward," Winry croaked, rubbing her eyes, "are you sure you don't want the automail?"

I nodded, standing up awkwardly. "Yeah… at least, for now I am…Listen, I've got to get going. Thanks for the check and all." I headed towards the door, stopping half way. "Hey, Winry?"

"Yes?" she said, her eyes puffy from unshed tears.

"I-I'm sorry," I apologized like the dumbass I was. "I didn't mean to ask you that- I didn't know-"

Winry shook her head, putting up a faint smile to show that it was ok. "It's alright- just forget about it… I'll see you later, Edward."

"See you, Winry." And with that, I walked out the door, guilt breathing down my back. In a way, I wished she would've started yelling at me instead. It would've been better than to have her grin at me like that, like I had done nothing wrong when really, I had caused enough damage.

-

You have no idea how much of a stupid bastard I felt after that. Embarrassment was snickering at me, accompanied by its loyal companion Humiliation; even the people on the sidewalk seemed to be laughing. I practically sprinted to the front door of Rose's house just so I could get away from it all. Ringing the doorbell like some fiend, I waited impatiently for someone to open the door. There were footsteps from within, a few voices here and there before one of Rose's house maids answered, a congenial woman by the name of Clara.

"Hello, welcome to-" she squinted, pushing up her round spectacles as she looked at me for a moment, disbelieved at who she was seeing. "Mr. Elric, is that you?"

"Hi Clara," I greeted. "How've you been?"

"Wonderful, and how about you! It's been _ages_ since the last time I saw you! I almost didn't recognize you because it's been so long! Anyway, would you like to-?"

"Clara, who's at the door?" Rose appeared by Clara's side, peering outside, but once she saw me, surprised overwhelmed her facial expression. She opened the door wider, inviting me inside. "Ed! What're you- what are you doing here?"

"Well, I wanted to-"I had only set a foot into the premises when she yanked me by the arm.

"You have perfect timing!" she happily said, leading me through the house. "My friends and I were just about to have tea."

"Which ones?" I asked. See, Rose is very sociable in her church community with an abundant amount of acquaintances and friends to form her own society. I've met a few of them, but there's so many, it's hard to keep track.

"Josephine and Isabelle. I want to introduce you to them," she replied as we somehow ended up on the patio in her backyard. In the middle of it was a table big enough for four in which two people had already occupied half the space, both women with contrasting physical statures. One was very petite with brunette curls and red lipstick, the other was rather heavy set, fingers as thick as the biscotti she was eating and a multiple number of chins. But despite that, they shared the same similarities; they were both wearing every type of jewelry: necklaces, earring, bracelets, and rings. The word 'rich' was stamped all over their fur coats and it didn't take much to see that these women were bathed in luxury.

"Rose," the brunette said, her pearl necklaces glinting in the sun, "is this your fiancé that you've been talking about?"

"Darling, if he is, then you are right- he is handsome!" the plump one exclaimed, sipping her tea.

"Yes, this is my fiancé, Edward," Rose introduced as she indicated to the woman with the red lipstick. "Edward, this is Isabelle." Isabelle took her attention away from the ring on her finger towards me.

"And I'm Josephine," the other said, imposing her own introduction. "Nice to finally meet you- Rose talks about you all the time."

I had a sudden feeling that whatever Rose mentioned about me wasn't always flattery. She probably complained to her friends how I don't spend enough time with her or something.

Rose blushed a shade darker as she seated herself. "Well come on Ed, take a seat."

"Yes darling, don't be shy," Josephine added, patting the empty chair next to her.

"Oh no, that's ok," I said, shaking my head. "I have to… go somewhere." Truth be told, I didn't want to join in this tea party. It wasn't that I was rejecting some time to spend with Rose; it was her friends I felt a little iffy about. I don't know why, but I was starting to feel some disliking towards these two.

"That can wait," Isabelle chimed. "Come, come join us."

"I'm sorry, but I really-"

"Edward," Rose hotly said, shooting me a sharp glare.

"Rose, I only came here to-"

"_Sit. Down_."

The way she had said that made chills shiver down my back. I never knew her to be so… scary like that; it was a side of her I hadn't seen till that very moment. So, like an obedient dog, I did what I was told, scowling at the scones and teacups on the table.

"Right then," Josephine licked her fingers clean of any biscotti crumbs. "So, Edward darling, how come we never see you at church? Rose goes all the time, but you're never there."

Isabelle seemed absolutely delighted by the question. "Yes, I've noticed that as well."

"I don't go to church," I replied, preferring to be blunt. The two of them exchanged glances as Rose sipped her tea like I hadn't said anything at all.

"You don't? Darling, why not?" _Darling_. Geez, I wish she would stop calling me that. It makes me sound like a pet or something.

"Well, I'm not a religious person, and I don't believe in a God." A mortified gasp swept through the table, murmuring that I had said something forbidden.

Rose cleared her throat, holding a basket of scones. "Um, would anyone like some?"

"So, you're a… _atheist_?" The word seemed taboo to Josephine. I nodded, which only made matters worse as Rose's friends eyed her, disapproval evident in their furtive stare. I hadn't the slightest clue as to what they thought of me by now- they were probably wondering why Rose intended to marry me at all- but it didn't matter. I just wanted to tell her about the restaurant and leave.

"Hey, Rose can I speak to you for-"

"_Anyways_-" interrupted Isabelle, her diamond earrings twinkling vibrantly in the sunshine, "you'll never guess what I heard about Father Collins."

Josephine went back to stuffing her mouth with more teatime delicacies, eyes wide with anticipation. "What did you hear, darling?"

"Rumor has it he's having an _affair_."

"An affair! How scandalous! He's a priest for crying out loud!" exclaimed the plump one, Rose looking on with interest. I on the other hand, could care less as to what these women were talking about. I'm not one to believe in gossip, it's just shitty chit-chat to liven conversation, but Josephine and Isabelle were like vultures, feeding upon any fresh rumor their ears happened to tune in. I swear, there must've been some gossip radio broadcast that they listen to because they knew everything about everyone.

I was about ready to leave when Josephine put her two cents into the rumor bucket. "But speaking of affairs, I heard about one that happened to… what's her name?" She snapped her fingers, trying to think of the face she couldn't label. "What is her name? Darling, Belle, you know that one woman with the blonde hair, blue eyes? She's got her own shop or something…"

_That sounds a lot like Winry_, I thought as Isabelle contemplated the information with her identity database. She was quick and within seconds, she was able to distinguish the name. "Oh! Oh, do you mean… Winry Sullivan?"

"Yes, that's the one!"

"But I thought her last name was Rockbell," my wonderings slipped off my tongue, my mind replaying that pained expression on Winry's face.

Rose shot me a curious look. "Wait, who are you talking about? Who's this Winry person?"

"Why, you've seen her before," said Isabelle.

"She and her son with all those freckles always sit in the back at church?" elaborated Josephine, tutting at Rose's blank expression. Church? Oh, I see; Winry must be Catholic. That explains why she had that crucifix in her shop- "Anyways, I heard that husband of hers, something Sullivan, had an affair. There are some stories going around that say she found him in the middle of a heated passion with a woman he met at work. Winry got mad at him, told him she'd never want to see his face again, and you know what? The very next day, he left her. He packed his things, ran off with that other whore, leaving Winry to take care of her son all by herself."

"He left her?" Rose repeated, crestfallen. "What a shame. I don't know what I'd do if I were in her position. It's so sad…"

"Yes, yes, terribly indeed," Isabelle said, sounding more sarcastic, less sympathetic. "But I heard from someone that she's already moved on to another man. He's some doctor-"

"A doctor!" exclaimed Josephine, pouring herself a cup of tea. "My, my, she's a real go getter for ones with the money."

Rose listened with interest, watching in the same way an apprentice studies their teacher as her gossip buddies proclaimed more lies. My mouth twitched, remarks itching to get out of my mouth.

"I wouldn't blame her. You know she's a mechanic, which isn't exactly the best profession out there, especially for a woman."

"Darling, no wonder she smells so ghastly, like motor oil and steel."

"And have you seen those horrible stains on her clothes? Not to mention, her hands are smeared with grease."

"How can she live like that? It's practically inhumane!"

"Well now that she's with that doctor, she won't have to worry about her current lifestyle. She could just ask him to buy her something-!"

There was a loud clatter of silverware as I stood up, knocking over the half-empty tea pot and spilling the lukewarm contents inside it. Isabelle and Josephine jumped from their seats, squealing in fright of spoiling their silk blouses, all the while Rose glared at me with malice.

"_Edward_," she growled, "what do you think you're-?"

"I'm leaving," I said without a hint of an apology, the other two gaping at me. "Thanks for the tea." With that, I made an abrupt sweep to the front door, getting away from the pointless conversation, this rumor infested company. Sure, I might not know Winry too well to justify her name, but it didn't take a rocket science to figure out how much of a bitch Josephine and Isabelle were. I mean, how much did they really know Winry? Not much if you ask me. They're just making assumptions, false accusations about someone they barely even know. Geez, I swear, if you were to stick me on a remote island with the two of them, I would rather be fed to the sharks than have to tolerate their impudence.

"Edward!" Rose called, in a hot pursuit after me. She tracked me down when I was a yard away from my escape, using herself as a barricade to block my route out. Her face was scrunched up in anger, cheeks flushed by embarrassment. Without a doubt, I knew she was downright pissed.

"Edward, what on earth is your problem?" she demanded.

"Oh nothing," I said, casually, "except that, you know, I can't believe you have friends like bitchy and bitchier who have nothing else better to do than talk shit about other people."

"What!" she howled, a few housemaids gathering to see what all the commotion was about. "_You_ barely even know _them_, and you're the one who's telling me this nonsense? What has gotten into you? It's like you're turning into a whole different person each time I see you! Besides, why did you come here anyway?"

But I didn't bother answering the question; I just wanted to get out of there. Pushing my way through and ignoring the abundant questions and demands of Rose, and forgetting to ask her about the damn restaurant, I kicked the door open and left.

* * *

I can't believe it's already April. Am I the only one who's shocked that it is? 

Anyway, about the FMA OVAs… what do you all think? I thought the chibi one was wicked hilarious, and the grandkid one was too cute for words. I still wonder how Ed ended up with grandkids that look exactly like him, Al, and Winry… Oh, and that Homunculus vs. Alchemist one was soo awesome.

And one last thing, has anyone seen commercials for that new anime adult swim's gonna show? Eureka Seven I think it's called. Do you think it's gonna be a hit or a miss?

That's all I've got for today folks. Till next time!

--WaitingWishing--


	4. Equivalent Exchange

Ok ok, so I haven't updated in a while. I'll be honest and say I was lazy. Summer started several weeks ago, and I've just been plain out lazy. Lazy lazy. But, I haven't lost interest in this story, so dontcha worry!

Here's a short chappy. I sorta conjured it up this morning, so it's not really good. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

--

I found myself in the park one sunny afternoon, sitting on my usual bench, scowling at the glimmering light dancing on the ever clear surface of the lake, still pissed as hell. I scared away any ducks that sought me for bread crumbs, shooed away any pigeons who thought me approachable, remnants of the argument wanting attention as I tried to curb thinking of it.

I realized that I didn't even accomplish what I wanted to do, which was to ask Rose if she wanted to go to that restaurant with me. But, I knew that if I tried talking to her now, there was no way in hell she'd want to listen to what I had to say. She was more than likely angry with me, disappointed, mad- the list of adjectives was endless, but knowing her, she'd get over it. Eventually. It takes time for her to forgive and forget, and only time could bring about such course. We've been through similar situations before, so this was just another petty alarm that would eventually shut up.

I continued shooing away the squawking and cooing wildlife, making sure that I had established this cubicle as my own, not noticing a curious wanderer behind me.

"Excuse me mister, would you like me to leave you alone as well?"

I turned around to see the speaker of the small voice. He was a little boy holding his notebook up to his face where his blue eyes peered over the top edge, shielding himself from whatever I was to reply. If it not had been for the notebook, which had his name written all over the front in black marker, I would have mistaken this boy for a lost child.

"Jonathon?" I said.

Ensured that I wouldn't start yelling at him, he put the notebook down. He seemed to recognize me, but couldn't recall my name.

"Um hi, mister…"

"You can just call me Ed. You don't have to be formal," I replied.

"Ok," Jonathon said, covering his face again with his notebook. "Um… is it ok if I sit here too?"

Not finding a reason to say no, I scooted over, making room for the two of us. With a shy "thank you" he sat down next to me, setting his backpack on the ground. I watched as he took out a pencil and opened his note pad. It was down to its last pages, while the rest was filled with writing, stories and adventures that he came up with. I wanted to ask him what they were about, but instead settled with,

"Shouldn't you be in school or something?"

"We got out early today."

"Oh, then shouldn't you be at home?"

"I take the bus, but it doesn't come until later," he said, his feet dangling several inches from the ground. "It drops me off at mommy's work, and then we take another bus to go home."

"Why do you wait here?" I asked, questions spilling out of my mouth. "I mean, why don't you go to your mom's work place or something?"

"I like it here… it's nice and quiet…" Jonathon turned to me and questioned, "How about you? You were here last time too… do you like it here?"

I didn't even have to think about it twice. "I sure do. Looks like we both have something in common."

A small smile spread across his lips, but disappeared before I could even tell it was really there.

"Um… why were you scaring those birds away?" he asked curiously.

I chuckled. "Oh, you saw that, eh?" He nodded shyly. "Well, I'm mad at some people because they were talking bad about… another person." I didn't want to mention it was his mother they were gossiping about. Just recalling what Isabella and Josephine were saying about Winry, suddenly made me more furious, like I wanted to march back over to that damn tea party and give them a piece of my mind. "Then, I had an argument with someone else too…"

Jonathon nodded, watching a father and son playing with their dog not too far from where we were. "I don't like arguments… Mommy and Dad used to argue a whole lot…" he bit his lip, clicking his shoes together as he whispered, "It always made me sad…"

That look on his face nearly did me in. So sad, full of grief too heavy for him to bear; it's the type of expression you don't want to see on a child. Misery had pounded on him, eroding every point of happiness to ensure he couldn't reach that peak again. I wanted to do something, to pat his back and give him some words of reassurance. "Hey come on, don't be so gloomy," I would tell him, "You're a kid. You're still young. Go on about being with a smile." But I didn't. Somehow, just sitting there with him, I knew words alone would not be enough to heal his wounds.

A small dinging caught my ears and I looked up. An ice cream man was pushing along his cart, ringing a bell to draw attention to what he was hauling inside of it. He stopped underneath a tree as a few customers lined up to get their cold treat.

"Hey Jonathon," I spoke suddenly, "do you like chocolate?" Jonathon nodded and I got up from my seat. "I'll be right back," I told him as I took out my wallet. I walked over to the ice cream man and bought two chocolate covered ice cream bars.

"Here," I handed him one while already biting into mine.

"For me?" he looked slightly surprised. "B-but Mr. Ed-"_Mr. Ed_. I couldn't help but smile at the name.

"It's on me, my treat," I reassured with a grin.

Jonathon took it, holding the ice cream bar like it was a precious gift. With the utmost gratitude, he looked up and said, "Thanks a bunch, Mr. Ed." In comfortable silence, we ate our ice cream, relishing the sweet taste of chocolate and icy vanilla.

I had already finished mine when I noticed Winry getting off the bus. She looked around, spotting Jonathon and me on the bench. She waved, I waved back, and walked over towards us, holding what seemed to be a tool box.

"Hello boys," she said with a grin, her face spotted with oil stains. "What are you two doing here?"

"Eating ice cream," Jonathon replied around a mouth full, not caring about the chocolate painted on his face. "Mr. Ed bought it for me."

Winry chuckled at her son's lack of neatness and took out her handkerchief. Wiping the mess off Jonathon, she turned to me. I thought she would still be angry about my wrong accusation of her being a widow, but thankfully she wasn't.

"Edward thanks for buying him ice cream," she said. "It was very generous of you."

I shrugged. "It's no problem, really."

Jonathon watched as the two of us went into a conversation, looking from his mother to me then back to Winry. He tugged on her sleeve endlessly, wanting to ask something.

"Mommy?" he whispered. "Mommy?"

"Yes?" Winry asked, tending to her son's question.

"Can we invite Mr. Ed for dinner? Please?"

"Dinner?" Winry repeated, open to the suggestion. "Sure, I mean, if that's alright with you, Edward."

"Can you Mr. Ed?" Jonathon said. "Please? It'll be like a… equivalent exchange for the ice cream. And mommy is the best cook in the entire world! You won't be disappointed."

Two pairs of sapphire eyes peered at me for a reply. Jonathon looked like he was just about ready to get on the floor and beg, so I replied before he'd suddenly get on his knees or something.

"Ok, sure, sounds great." The answer seemed to please Jonathon. Winry stood by, writing something down on a piece of paper she had gotten from her pocket.

Handing it to me, she explained, "Here are the directions to get to our house. It's really far from here though…"

I waved the matter aside and took the paper. "Hey, if Jonathon says you're the best cook in the universe, then I'm willing to make the trip." Without a doubt, I love to eat. Seriously, hand me a whole tray of delicious food, I'll guarantee you I'd finish everything down to the very last morsel.

"Alright, so when can you come over?" asked Winry, Jonathon looking on with curiosity.

"Well, I don't have any work tomorrow, so is tomorrow night ok with you?"

Winry thought about this for a moment. "Yeah, it's fine. So tomorrow night at… let's say, seven o'clock?"

"Seven it is then."

As the two of them made their way to the bus stop, a sudden thought came to me. Forget Bella de Villa. A home cooked meal could out taste a gourmet banquet anytime.

--

Quick question! Is anyone going to the Anime Expo? I'm going Monday, and zomg, I'm so excited! Maybe I'll see some of you there!

Next chappy: a celebration party and some quality time spent during dinner. Oo, did I mention something bad's going to happen soon?

Till next time!


	5. Trouble With a Stranger

New chappy. Read. Enjoy. Review. Please.

Thank you :)

Chapter Four

Trouble With a Stranger

The bar was buzzing with noise, alive with social interaction. Bottles of beer and shots of alcohol came around in endless supply, swallowed, chugged, and swigged to one's content. It's amazing what a few sips or glasses the stuff can do to a person; it can turn the most humble man into an irrefutable idiot, unleash a personality much unlike themselves. It's the Devil's Elixir, one of the closest ways of getting too close to the fire.

I looked around the room, watching as my intellectual colleagues lost their sensibility. I spotted a few of them dancing on tables, others absorbed in a drinking game or singing drunkenly in crowds. In the midst of all this chaos, I felt like Al and I were the only ones with any trace of sanity left.

"I can't believe I'm here," I groaned. "Scratch that, I don't even want to be here."

I was forced to come to celebrate Mustang's promotion to Headmaster. Apparently, old Headmaster Bradley has decided to retire and saw Mustang fit to replace him. The University, the most prestigious academic college, is now under the hands of Roy Mustang. And what does the bastard do about it? He takes his staff to the sleaziest bar in town to go drinking. Ah yes, I can see the assurance for the University's bright future now.

Sitting next to me, Al nodded, watching the ice cubes in his untouched drink melt. "Same here brother."

"Dammit, what time is it anyway?" I asked, fidgeting in my seat.

"6:34," Al raised an eyebrow. "Why? You're so antsy all of a sudden."

"Well, I'm supposed to catch a bus to go to Resembool-"

"And why are you going to Resembool?" A small smirk careened its way across his face. "Ah, I get it. You're going to see Winry aren't you?"

"Well yeah, but only because she and her son invited me for dinner," I said. "Nothing more. It's not a date or anything like that, so don't draw any stupid conclusions."

"I wasn't concluding anything!" Al waved his hands defensively. "Sheesh brother…"

"Alright, but I wonder. Maybe we could sneak off and leave-"

My sentence was clipped short by a loud proclamation. "Aha! There you are, Ed and Al! I found yooouuuu!" Maes Hughes exclaimed, collapsing into the chair beside me. His square spectacles were askew, his breath reeked of alcohol. Usually, Hughes is expressing his genuine adoration of his daughter, Elycia, with endless bragging and the album of photographs he's got stashed everywhere, but at the moment, he looked too tipsy to tell the difference between left and right.

"Hughes, are you…?" Al started but didn't finish.

"Drunk?" I filled in the blank.

Hughes shook his head defiantly. "Naw, I'm not drunk! Why would I be? Heh heh, I didn't even drink much- I only had two drinks!" he held up five fingers, laughing at himself. "Wait, that's what two looks like, right? Right?" He laughed some more, noticing the two glasses sitting on the table. "Hey, are you going to finish that?"

Before Al and I could respond, he snatched the alcoholic beverages, washing down the contents in the blink of an eye.

"Mmaaaeeesss!" Stumbling on stage was no other than the man of the hour, Mustang. The bottle clutched in his hands, and the way the words slurred out of his mouth were enough evidence to conclude that he had had way too much. By his side stood Riza, looking irritated at having a drunkard under her wing.

"Rooooyyy!" Hughes said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Hey, hey- do I seem drunk to you?"

Mustang snorted. "Drunk? Noo, of course not. What about me, what about me? Am I druuunk?"

"Sir," Riza interjected, "don't you think you've had enough for now?"

"Oh lighten up," Mustang poked at her. "Have some fun! If you want, we can share a drink." He waved a bottle under her nose, but she rolled her eyes, rejecting the heinous offer. He pouted, already loosing interest in the conversation as his glance wandered to a crowd gathered in the corner.

"Come on Maes, let's gooo." He grabbed his friend by the sleeve and dragged him off. Riza let out an exasperated sigh, excusing herself before following the two of them.

"Let's go too," I told Al, getting up from my seat. I've had enough of sitting around, watching people loose their common sense over some alcohol. "I don't want to miss the bus."

"But, what about Roy's party?"

"He's too drunk to even notice us here. Besides, I thought you wanted to stop by Mimi's Diner to see Julia." Over at Mimi's Diner, there's a waitress by the name of Julia whom Al's taken quite a liking to. Every time he tells me he's going to get something to eat there, I know he means he's going to see her.

"Um, I don't know what you're talking about," Al's face darkened as we headed towards the door.

"Oh come on, you've got the hots for her," I joked. "It's so obvious, I mean-"

I have no idea where he came from, but suddenly, a man crashed into me. The impact sent me flying to the floor, a massive wasteland of broken bottles and puddles of liquor.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" the man barked, his dark green hair contrasted wildly with his pale skin.

I glared, getting to my feet. "What the hell, you're the one you knocked into me!"

The man laughed, the smell of alcohol seething out with his breath. "Well, pipsqueaks like you need warning signs so people can see where you are."

Anger coursed through my veins, eating away my common sense, shutting down my ability to be reasonable. I found myself shouting, forgetting about the bus I was supposed to catch.

"You've got a big mouth," the man sneered before taking a punch at me. He swung and missed, but took another shot to try to redeem his pride.

"Dammit, c'mere!" With a raised fist, he charged at me, but I dodged the attack. Unable to stop himself, he collided into the developing crowd. I smirked victoriously, but Al didn't seem too pleased.

"Brother, stop it! You're acting like a child!" he scolded. "Just apologize and let's go!"

"Apologize?" I repeated, mortified. "Apologize for what? This bastard deserves what-!"

Before I could react, the man came at me from behind. He shoved me into the wall, gripping my neck with his left hand, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

"Who're you calling a bastard, huh?" the man shouted, eyes ablaze with rage. "Why you sonnuva bitch, I'll kill you!"

The grip on my neck tightened, suffocating me. I felt dizzy. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. Air… I needed air…

"Brother!" I heard Al yell amidst the shouts of the crowd. "Brother!"

"Al… phonse…"

"What'd you say?" the man barked, hitting me across the mouth with his fist. "Damn pipsqueak, answer me!"

With a spontaneous burst of energy, I hit him hard in the stomach with my knee. He staggered back and the hold on me loosened. Seeing this as a chance to break free, I punched him in the face, giving him a taste of metal with my right arm. Blood gushed out of his nose and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

"K.O.!" I heard Roy shout somewhere in the crowd. "Edowado Elric wiiiins!"

It was the first time I had gotten involved in a fight. Sure, I've had verbal arguments, but never something like this. You'd think I'd celebrate for my victory, but I didn't feel like a winner at all. Wiping my mouth, seeing the blood stain on my sleeve, I wanted to leave, to just get out of the place.

"Brother!" Al rushed to my side. "Brother, are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I replied, glancing at the man and feeling no guilt. Forget apologies. Hell, the guy deserved it. "Let's just go."

Al nodded and followed me out the door. Neither of us said a word for a moment as we stepped outside, the cold air whipping us in the face. I didn't even have to look at my watch to see I had missed the bus.

"What're you going to do about your dinner?" asked Al, finally.

I shrugged. "I don't know." I didn't want to call and tell Winry I couldn't make it. Disappointment was the last thing I wanted to bring to her and Jonathon.

"I'll take you," Al offered, searching for his car keys.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's a long way to go-"

"I'm sure. Come on, let's get going." I followed him into the car. Al started the engine, but the car remained in parking lot.

"You may want to clean up a bit," he advised, handing me a couple tissues. I looked into the mirror, grimacing at my reflection. My bottom lip was bleeding slightly, red liquid streamed out its open wound.

"Oh, and Ed?"

"What?" I asked, wiping away any traces of blood.

Al faced me, his expression a mask of sheer seriousness. Suddenly, he started shouting. "Brother, don't you ever do something like that again! You could've gotten seriously injured, or arrested! I mean, what were you thinking, getting yourself into trouble with a complete stranger? Why couldn't you have been more rational about it, said sorry and left? I swear brother, don't you ever, _ever_, think of doing something like that again!"

I sat there, stunned. In all my life, Al had never shouted at me like that before. Sure, he's yelled at me, but never like this. It reminded me of the way our mother would scold us after getting into trouble, but no matter how long she would reprimand us for our actions, it showed just how much she truly cared for our well-being. I felt guilty for making Al so concerned, ashamed for causing him so much worry.

"I… I'm sorry…" I apologized and I meant it. "I'm sorry."

Al let out a deep breath. "It's ok, it's ok. Just- just don't try a stunt like that again, alright?"

I nodded. "It's a done deal."

Al nodded as well. "Good."

-

The journey to Resembool was a long one, almost endless I would say. I stared out of the window, watching the giant buildings diminish while soft hills rolled by in their place. The mountains, which were once so far away, seemed close enough to touch. Humble houses sat in the vast enormity of the valleys and farms stood out in the abundant plantations. It was hard to believe this place existed beyond the outskirts of Central.

"It's like a whole different world out here," I mused, rolling down the window.

Al nodded, agreeing. "Well, welcome to Resembool." He took a left, finally stopping at our destination. I glimpsed out to see a two-story house, old and worn by time yet still possessed with willpower to withstand the harshest of weather. There was a balcony on the top floor, overlooking the distance. An old dog slept on the porch where a light shone, welcoming guests inside.

"Is this the place?" asked Al.

"741," I read the number on the mail box and double-checked with the paper in my hand. "Yeah, this is it."

"Then what're you waiting for? You don't want to be late now do you?"

I chuckled as I got out of the car. "Are you sure you don't want to come in? I don't think Winry would mind."

"Nah, that's ok. Besides, I've got to get to Mimi's Diner before it closes," Al broke into a toothy grin. "So, I'll see you later brother."

"Thanks for the ride Al."

"Hey, what're brothers for?"

But as I saw Al drive off into the night, I had a sudden hope he'd turn around. My stomach tightened, my gut formed this wrenching feeling. "Come back," I wanted to say, but I knew my voice wouldn't reach him. So I stood there, watching his car headlights shrink to tiny dots in the horizon before being swallowed by the darkness.

* * *

Hello everybody! Yes, I know some bad news was supposed to happen, but as I was writing this, I decided to just save the whole dinner part and bad news for the next chapter. 

Oh, I saw the dubbed FMA movie at the Anime Expo last week- Trust me guys, you will not be disappointed! It's even coming out in theatres, September 8, so watch out for that!

Anndd… that's all. Till next time!

--WaitingWishing


	6. Inner Demons

After a year of silence, I decide to update. Wow, a year???

I'm really really sorry for not updating any sooner. School got in the way, and I caught writer's block. I didn't have time for anything anymore, so I had to put this aside with the hope that I'd come back to it.

And then a couple of weeks ago, I salvaged my spiffy blue notebook, picked up a pen and picked up where I left off. I had to re-read the last 5 chapters since it's been so long.

Again, I'm very sorry for the loonnggg delay!

Oh, and special thanks to ElricKeyblade for the wake up call!

So without further adieu, here is chapter six. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 6

Inner Demons

"Mr. Ed! You finally made it!" Jonathon said as I stepped inside. The smell of something delicious filled my nostrils, making my mouth water and my stomach growl.

"Hey Jonathon," I returned the greeting. "I'm not late, am I?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Mommy's still cooking dinner in the kitchen. I'll tell her you're here."

I nodded as he disappeared down the hall. I found myself wandering into the living room, looking at the pictures near the windowsill. They were moments in time, still frames of past memories. Most of them were of Winry, and Jonathon; Winry smiling graciously, while Jonathon settled with a small grin. From photograph to photograph, he never seemed truly happy, never really smiled.

But then there was one picture that caught my eye. I almost didn't notice it though since it was purposely hidden among everything else. I couldn't help myself as curiosity took hold, and I reached over, bringing the frame closer to view.

There were three people in the photo, relaxing in the shade, a river sparkling in the background. A mother, a son, and a father. A family photograph. Winry was beaming in her summer dress, and next to her was a man, enviously handsome and grinning one of those dashing smiles. He was holding up a freshly caught fish, and showing it proudly to the camera. Jonathon stood by doing the same, and although his fish wasn't as big, he looked happy with his catch. He was a splitting image of his father, a younger reflection except for the eyes- they were Winry's eyes.

But the smile on Jonathon's face was an expression of his own, depicting the contentment of that very moment.

"We took that picture two summers ago," Jonathon said from behind, surprising me. I nearly dropped the frame as I wheeled around to face him. He didn't look mad, but he wasn't exactly brimming with joy either.

"Oh, um, I was just-" I fumbled for an excuse, coming up with nothing. "I was just…"

"Dad spent all day trying to catch that carp," he continued. "He didn't want to go home until he got it. It took forever, but when he finally caught it, he let it go. He said he felt sorry for it."

I smiled weakly, handing him the frame. "Oh, sounds like your father was quite a guy."

Wrong choice of words. Taking the picture, Jonathon tucked it away in the back.

"Yeah, some guy he was for leaving us. Some father." He clenched his fists, bitterness seeping out with every word. "Yeah, some jerk he was. I don't even know why he left 'cause mommy never tells me, but he didn't even say good-bye…"

He was close to tears, but even so, he refused to cry. Thoughts that seemed to have been suppressed gushed out, revealing everything there was to know.

"I… I hate him, Mr. Ed. He makes mommy cry. Sometimes, I hear her crying when she's in her bedroom, or when she's out on the balcony by herself. She tells me she's ok, but I know she's not… I hate my father for making mommy cry! I hate him for everything!"

This was a side I hadn't seen till now, the inner demon locked up in its cage. I couldn't believe how this quiet and sweet boy had so much anger pent up inside, eating away at every trace of happiness.

But I knew where he was coming from. I had the same issue with my own father.

"I never knew my dad," I started, turning towards the window. Jonathon looked up, rubbing at his eyes.

"You didn't?"

"Nope. He left when I was too little to remember anything. He's just a blurry memory, but I hated him so much. I was so angry at him for leaving, but my mom always believed that he'd come back. He never did. Each day was a broken promise, and my mom was left with the shattered pieces."

"Mr. Ed?" he said suddenly. "You won't ever leave somebody like that, will you?"

I shook my head. "Never."

"Promise?" Jonathon extended a pinky.

I hooked my pinky with his. "Promise."

A deep understanding was established between Jonathon and me, a sort of connection. Even though I had met him recently, it felt like he was close enough to be my son.

"There you two are!" Winry appeared, taking off her apron. "I was wondering where you were. Well, dinner's ready- better get it while it's hot."

I followed both of them into the kitchen. My eyes widened. Winry didn't make dinner- she prepared a feast. The table was brimming with food: mashed potatoes, biscuits, salad, chicken, and a baked ham, the main entrée, in the middle. It looked and smelled like Thanksgiving Day.

"Wow…" was all I was able to say.

We took our seats around the table and as I was just about ready to gouge my fork into the ham, Winry told Jonathon to say grace. I stopped midway, my fork hanging in the air.

"Sorry," I apologized. "Got a little excited there…"

Jonathon snorted, folding his hands in prayer. Winry did the same, and I just followed suit. "Dear God, thank you for this food that mommy made, and thank you for making mommy such a good cook. And thank you for letting Mr. Ed come today-" I had to smile here- "to spend time with us. Amen."

"Uh, amen," I said weakly, not sure what 'amen' meant.

"Amen," Winry chorused. "Alright, let's eat!"

I filled my plate with food, and one bite told me enough. Winry was definitely a cook to be reckoned with. Screw Bella de Villa. Winry's cooking could outdo any dish from a fancy restaurant.

"I think my taste buds are in heaven," I said, savoring the flavor.

"I told you mommy was a good cook," Jonathon beamed as Winry smiled bashfully. "Hey Mr. Ed, is there a Mrs. Ed?"

"Well, no not yet, but there will be."

The room went quiet. Whether or not this was some sort of surprise to Winry, I couldn't tell, but Jonathon didn't bother hiding his bewilderment.

"You're getting _married_?" He glanced at my finger and I reflexively touched it, realizing that my engagement ring wasn't there. Crap.

"Ah, yeah I am," I chuckled dryly. I couldn't believe that I forgot to wear my ring of all things. How can a person forget something like that?

"Congratulations, Edward," said Winry, wearing a small grin. "Who's the lucky woman?"

"Her name is Rose-"

"Oh, do you mean Rose Thomas?"

I nodded, blinked. "Yeah, do you know her?"

Winry shook her head. "Not really, but she's a cantor at church. She has a lovely voice."

"Oh." Come to think of it, I've never heard Rose sing a note before. I didn't even know that she was a cantor because she never mentioned it to me. I glanced over at Jonathon, who was quietly playing with the peas on his plate. He didn't look up at me, and I don't think he wanted to.

"Mommy?" he piped up after a few moments of silence. "May I be excused? I'm… tired." He yawned for effect, rubbing his eyes.

Winry checked the clock, and nodded her head. "Alright then, off to bed you go." Jonathon jumped off his seat, and placed a kiss on his mother's cheek.

"Goodnight mommy."

"Goodnight sweetie. I'll come by in a minute to tuck you in. Don't forget to say goodnight to Ed-"

But Jonathon stormed up the stairs, each step emphasized with a heavy thud. The thunderous march was ended with a loud slam of the door. Silence.

I dropped my fork. "I think he's mad at me."

"But why would he be?" Winry's brow was etched in confusion. "What did you do?"

"I'm getting married, that's what." I wasn't sure if my answer was correct, but the news of my engagement certainly made Jonathon's mood do a one-eighty. And even if my answer was correct, it still left me confused and wondering. Why would he be mad at me for getting married?

"No, that couldn't be- I'll go check up on him." Winry scurried off after her son, leaving me alone at the table.

I suddenly wasn't in the mood for the apple pie we were about to have. I was too stunned. My appetite was being eaten away by this feeling, you know, the feeling that you think you did something wrong, but you don't know what it is? And that something you did wrong made someone mad at you, but you don't really know what that something is to make that someone angry? That's the feeling I felt at that moment.

Wanting to set things right again, I got up from my seat. I would just talk to Jonathon, see what was wrong, and everything would be better again. I followed the same route Winry had taken, but she met me halfway.

"He's asleep," she sighed, "or faking it."

"Oh yeah, he's mad at me," I groaned. "Does he get like this often?"

She shook her head. "No, not really, but maybe he's just… assuming the worst."

Confused, I followed her back downstairs and out onto the porch. A breeze swept by, stars dotted the skies like distant gems. I leaned against a post, while Winry settled on the steps. She seemed at peace, savoring every feeling of tranquility as she glanced at the crescent moon.

"I never told you about Matthew, have I?"

"Matthew?" I repeated. She let out a long sigh, and the serene expression on her face went blank. She closed her eyes as if watching the memory in the back of her mind.

"It was on a night like this, with the stars and moon in the background when I was walking home from work- I was a waitress at the time and I just had a bad day. I dropped someone's order, I spilled coffee on our best customer's new trousers, I slipped in front of my boss, and I got orders mixed up. People yelled at me, complained, and all I wanted to do was to go home and escape all of it. I was passing by a café when I saw him, when I saw Matthew. It was one of those outdoor cafés, and he was just about ready to perform for the crowd there, a band accompanying him. I slowed down, and just stared at him. I couldn't help it, he was a good-looking guy. But then he started singing, and that's when I stopped walking, and started listening. His voice was like nothing I've heard before, and listening to him made all my troubles melt away. I forgot about the crummy day I was having, and suddenly… everything seemed alright-"

She began coughing. I asked if she was alright, and she nodded, regaining her composure and continued.

"I started taking that route home more often just to see him and to hear him sing. I didn't think he even noticed me until he stopped by the restaurant I worked at. He swept me off my feet with his charm, and when he asked me out for dinner, I would've been a fool to have said no. So we went out, and he visited more often, and I stopped by the café everyday. And the more I got to know him, the more I realized that he was broken. His parents died in an accident when he was only three, so he was left to live with his Aunt, who was an alcoholic, and abused him mentally and physically. He was broken, and you know what? I thought that _I _could repair him. It had only been a few months when he asked me to marry him, and me being in love, naïve, and young, I said yes. So we got married, had Jonathon, but little of his tidbits of his personality revealed itself slowly. Things started falling apart…"

She opened her eyes, watching the dark horizon before her. "…He… drank a lot. There'd be mornings where I'd find him on the porch, passed out, and there'd be nights when he'd come home drunk. He was a different man when he was drunk. He was like a wild animal, instinctual and uncontrollable. I'd find him in bed with another woman, or I'd discover that he wasted all his money at the bar. He hit me once… but I had gotten so sick of his doings that I fought back. I told him to leave, that I was sick of him and to not come back until he's straightened himself out as a father and as a husband.

"'You're nothing without me,'" was the last thing he said to me before he left… That was six months ago… And just a couple of weeks ago, the police called me…"

"… What happened?" I asked so quietly, I barely heard myself.

"He… Matthew… The police found his dead body in a lake… rocks and stones were in his pockets…"

"Suicide…" I gasped as Winry closed her eyes, nodding slowly. We went silent for a moment, trying to grasp the story. "I… I'm sorry…" was all I could say.

She shook her head. "But you know what the worst part is? The worst part is… Jonathon still thinks that Matthew's out in the world, alive…"

"You… didn't tell him that-?"

Winry shook her head again. "I can't- what am I supposed to say? He's only a child. I don't want to expose him to something he's not ready to handle. I don't want to shatter a dream that's already broken. I can't do it, I can't…"

I imagined what would happen if she told Jonathon about his father at this moment, and the confusion it would bring him. I guess it would be best to leave innocence alone. He is, after all, still a boy.

"When are you going to tell him?" I asked.

"When I feel he's ready to understand," she replied. "When I'm ready to tell him… I still can't accept the reality of the situation, that my husband took his own life away…"

"Well, think of it this way: this world is huge. There's surely more than just one person for everyone," I said, trying to make sense of the nonsense. It was a rather pathetic attempt to cheer her up, and I felt really stupid for even opening my mouth in the first place.

But it at least brought a smile to her face. It may have been small, but it was something. "You think so?"

A sudden thought of Rose came to mind, but I ignored it. "I know so…" I returned the smile.

--

Luckily for me, I was able to catch the last bus to Resembool. It would be a long ride back, but I was thankful for the slice of apple pie Winry had given me. I watched as hills vanished behind buildings and power lines, too absorbed to notice the car crash on the side of the road.

When I got back to my apartment, I had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. It kept me awake, making me toss and turn in bed. Without anything better to do, I thought. I thought about Winry and her husband, about Jonathon being mad at me, and how I wanted to know what I did wrong. I thought about Al, and I wondered if he got to spend time with Julia.

And then the phone rang.

I looked at the clock. 12:25. Who the hell would be calling me at this hour?

"Hello?" My voice sounded irritated as I spoke into the receiver.

"Is this Edward Elric?" A man's voice.

"Yeah, so what of it?"

The man cleared his throat. "This is Dr. Marco from Central Hospital-"

The feeling in my stomach tightened, and my head started to spin. I knew that whatever he was about to tell me wouldn't be good.

"-I'm sorry to inform you that your brother, Alphonse, got into a horrible car accident. He's in a coma… I'm sorry…"

* * *

Oo, bet you didn't see that coming. If you did, then you're really good.

So's I have the next chappy- I just need to revise it a little bit and ta da! Next update soon. Promise it won't take another year for that.

Until next time!


	7. Karma

June 25, 2007 was the last time I updated

It is now May 28, 2008.

Ahhh, I'm sorry for the really really late update. Senior year was just really hectic. I suffered from major stress overload this year. So glad it's over. Ok, it's bittersweet, but hey, I'm on summer break now so I can write now.

Since it's been so long, here's a quick summary as to what happened in the last few chapters: Ed meets Jonathon, who is Winry's son. Winry's husband is dead (he killed himself, remember?), so she's a widow. The two of them invited Edo for dinner. Jonathon gets mad at Ed for an unclear reason. Winry tells Ed how she met her husband. Back home, Ed gets a phone call that Al is in the hospital, stuck in a coma.

This chapter's really short. I should've combined it, but I felt that it would be better if it stood alone.

And so the (very) delayed chapter!

Chapter 7

Karma

The phone call felt like a dream, like I'd wake up and everything would be all right. I desperately wanted it to be a dream, and I kept telling myself to wake up. But when nothing happened; when I saw the tubes and machines keeping Al alive; when I heard the slow beeping from the heart monitor, I knew that this was all very real.

"Al…" I could barely keep the tears from falling. I was trying to face it like a man, but I couldn't fit that stereotype. Whoever said that boys don't cry seriously needs to have a reality check.

I turned to Dr. Marco who had been quietly standing next to me.

"How…?" I couldn't finish my question, but he seemed to know what I wanted to ask.

"Your brother was involved in a car crash with a drunk driver. Witnesses say that your brother tried to swerve out of the way, but he wasn't quick enough and ended up colliding into the other driver."

"And how long will Al…?" I felt helpless. Like a child without a parent.

Dr. Marco's face grew grave. "There's no telling. He could be like this for days, months, years. He may never…"

_Wake up at all_.

It was strange to think that just hours ago, Al was yelling at me for being stupid, giving me a ride to Winry's house, reminding me in that very Al way of his, _'Hey, what are brothers for?'_

What were the last words I told him? Oh, now I remember. 'Thanks for the ride, Al.' Thanks for the ride, Al? That's it? Why didn't I say anything more meaningful? Why didn't I just invite him to dinner, I'm sure that Winry wouldn't have minded.

Just… why?

An image of Winry and Jonathon saying grace comes to mind, the two of them folding their hands in prayer and gratitude for the meal. What happens during times like these, what would they do?

I don't understand. If God really did exist then why would he let something like this happen to my brother? The innocent are sacrificed, the guilty spared.

"…What happened to the other driver?" The bastard, the goddamn idiot at fault for my brother's condition.

"Fortunately for him, he was lucky. He only came out with a few bruises and a couple of broken bones," Dr. Marco gestured towards the other side of the room. There was a white curtain that I failed to notice when I first walked in, hiding the bed's occupant.

"Lucky guy," he mused. "Stupid, but lucky… Wait, Edward- don't disturb him-!"

But I wasn't listening as I walked over to the bed, throwing the curtains aside, curious and angry to see who the other driver was.

I froze.

Dark green hair.

Pale skin.

Dry blood around the bridge of his nose.

This was the man I had gotten into a fight with at the bar.

I couldn't believe it. Staring into the face of this stranger, watching the tranquility on his face that he didn't deserve; this is the person who changed my life in a matter of seconds, the one who came out of the wreckage alive and well.

I wanted to kill him.

"You fucking bastard!" I shouted, grabbing a handful of his hospital gown. I couldn't stop. I was pissed. I was angry. Murder was in mind. I knew it was stupid to pick a fight with an injured person, but I didn't care.

The bastard opened his eyes, blinking several times before grasping the whole situation.

"… the hell…?"

He was weak. Vulnerable. An easy target.

"Edward! Stop it!"

Rose's voice. I froze. She was standing in the doorway, slowly walking towards me in a way a person cautiously approaches a wild animal. She put a hand on my shoulder and gave it an uncertain squeeze.

"Edward, i-it's all right…"

I let go of him as Rose wrapped her arms around me. I could feel the hesitation in her embrace but I needed the comfort. I cried into her arms, my concrete fury crumbling into pieces.

"Everything's going to be all right…" she cooed.

'Will it?' I wondered, but said nothing.

--

And so that's that for now. Hope everyone's having a good day.

And to all the readers who have stuck with me… thanks so much. Your words are greatly appreciated.

Ciao!


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